Here we are - the last of the repost chapters. Tomorrow is
Chapter 14, the first of the all-new material. C&C is, of
course, welcome.
- Grayson Towler
http://www.talesfromthevault.com/relentless
=========================
RELENTLESS
A Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction
By Grayson Towler
=========================
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CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
Phobia
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The late autumn weather in China seemed bent on making
Saotome Ranma's life a lot more dangerous. Snowstorms
in the mountains had forced the cancellation of the
last two trains he'd intended to catch, and
transportation by road to the next major town had all
but ground to a halt. Black ice on the bridges had
scared most drivers into parking their vehicles and
waiting for this cold snap to pass. Ranma didn't have
the luxury to stay in one place, though. If he
couldn't hitch a ride, he'd just have to make his way
on foot.
<This ain't good,> he told himself as he trudged along
the snow-packed road, keeping his eye peeled for any
driver who might be willing to take a chance on a
foreign hitchhiker. If he saw one, he'd be sure to
transform into his girl self - it was always easier to
bum a ride that way. Right now, though, he needed the
longer stride his male legs provided to make the best
time he could.
He braced himself against a harsh gust of wind,
angling his back towards the pale cliffs. The road
wound along the edge of the mountain range, through
rough country made rougher by the treachery of ice.
The footing here was awful, even for someone with
Ranma's uncanny sense of balance, and his old canvas
shoes were not much for traction.
<I hate this,> he grumble inwardly. <I gotta find a
way to head somewhere warmer.> The map he carried was
adequate for telling him where the roads, rivers, and
train tracks were, but was conspicuously deficient in
information about topography. Ranma found himself
revising his travel routes all too frequently once he
actually saw the terrain he intended to cross.
He had made a conscientious effort to keep to the
back country in his journey in order to avoid leading
the Reikoku through populated territory, but he
wondered how long he could expect to keep that up. If
he just let himself travel in the more civilized
regions of China, he wouldn't have so much problem
finding transportation. He might even be able to get
a bike, which would really improve his average land
speed.
<And meanwhile, that ugly monster's walkin' straight
through someone's kitchen to get at you,> he chided
himself. <Ain't so easy, is it?> Still, heading
south for the winter was assuredly a good idea.
Happosai was probably doing the same - the old lecher
didn't care much for women in heavy coats and boots.
<First thing's first,> he told himself as he paused to
double-check his map again. <Gotta get outta these
mountains, hop a train. No tellin' how close the
Reikoku is to... me...>
He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
"Uh oh," he muttered to himself.
The undergrowth rustled madly with the sound of
fleeing animals. A hawk took to the skies, beating
its wings and shrieking in terror. The taint of a
familiar, corrupt aura seeped through Ranma's skin,
raising gooseflesh all across his body. He heard
himself growling softly.
Slowly, deliberately, Ranma turned towards the source
of fear.
<Here it comes,> he thought grimly.
This wasn't his ideal choice for a battleground, but
he was on a relatively flat patch of road without too
much snow and ice. It was as good a place as he was
going to find, and there was not much chance he could
outrun the Reikoku.
In a way, he was looking forward to this fight. The
thrill of challenge had always burned in the heart of
Saotome Ranma, and here was a foe he knew would demand
his finest effort. Yet he felt prepared, confident.
He was faster and stronger than he'd ever been in his
life, and he had a whole new suite of combat
techniques to unleash upon his adversary. Best of
all, his improved arsenal boasted an impressive array
of long-distance attacks, which would keep him out of
range of the monster's grasping arms and lethal claws.
With any luck, he could get through this fight without
letting the Reikoku land a single hit.
He focused his ki into pulsing auras of hot and cold
around his fists, preparing to execute his One-Man
Dragon attacks. He could feel the dark presence of
the Reikoku like a blanket of needle-sharp claws being
dragged across his skin now. It was very close,
almost close enough for him to smell its rotten, briny
reek. It would be coming into view very soon.
<Since when does the Reikoku stink?> part of him
asked.
There was no time to be distracted by irrelevancies.
He could see it now, shambling up the road, less than
a hundred meters away as it crested the closest hill.
Ranma's fingers curled into hard claws, ready to rake
the beast who dared to challenge him. Its black-robed
form lurched forward, its pace as maddeningly
unswerving as ever, its three terrible eyes burning
hot against the utter void beneath its robes.
Ranma let out a feral hiss.
<Stop it!> he shouted to himself. <This is wrong!
Snap out of it! Can't you see what's happening?>
The pig-tailed martial artist edged backwards, back
hunched and eyes blazing. The desire to fight and
kill thundered through his veins, crimson and sweet.
His enemy was there, edging closer and closer. It
would soon be within range of his claws.
<Run! Damn it! Run away!> What was left of his
rational mind was screaming, desperate to assert
control. <Run! Run! RUN!>
Somehow, the impulse to flee pierced through the veil
of feline fury which had fallen over Ranma's mind.
With a bestial screech, he whirled and dropped to all
fours, bolting down the road away from the black-robed
horror of the Reikoku. It pursued, as it always did,
unstoppable and implacable in its quest to hunt down
its prey.
As he gained some distance from the creature and threw
off the effects of its psychic aura, he drew himself
up and began to run like a human again. His cat-self
slipped back into the recesses if his mind, ebbing
away along with his Reikoku-induced fear. Clarity of
thought returned, and he railed angrily at his own
folly.
<Stupid ass!> he berated himself. <You shoulda known
it might do somethin' like that! After you used the
Neko-ken against it, that thing adapted. Just like
the Moko-Takabisha... it turns your own techniques
against you! Damn it all!>
Ranma's heart thundered in his chest. He knew that
he'd been a hair's breadth away from death. If he'd
lost control and fought that creature in his Neko-ken
state, all his new techniques would have been useless.
The Reikoku would not be beaten the same way twice.
Ranma's foot landed on a patch of ice, sending him
sprawling down a steep, rocky grade. He scrambled to
right himself, kicking up clumps of snow in every
direction. Casting a furtive glance back over his
shoulder towards the abomination which pursued him, he
climbed back onto the road.
<Oh man, this is really bad,> he thought desperately.
Panic had burned way too much energy already. Trying
to run on this terrain was a dangerous gamble, and
fighting the Reikoku's fear aura was even more tiring
than running. His breath was already coming in heavy
gusts. How long was it to the next town? How long
would he have to keep this up?
Somewhere past the din of his own hammering pulse in
his ears and the wheezing of his breath, Ranma caught
the sound of something else. He stopped running for a
moment, focusing on the noise with a desperate sense
of hope. Gritty tires grinding against the ice, the
churning throb of an engine... it was coming from down
the road, back the direction he'd already traveled.
<Someone's drivin' out there, and they're goin' fast
enough to catch up to that damned monster!> he
realized.
Ranma knew that whoever it was would almost certainly
turn around and run once he began to feel the
Reikoku's fear aura. He didn't have much time.
Ranma cast desperately about for an alternate path to
take so he could double back around the creature and
get to that driver before it was too late, but the
terrain was not in his favor. On one side he faced
inhospitable, icy cliffs, and on the other he would
have to contend with waist-deep snow and broken ground.
If he was going to get past the Reikoku with any speed,
he'd have to do it on the road, where his footing was
the best. Under normal circumstances, he'd have felt
good about his chances of dodging the monster's
strikes long enough to get by, but not today. If he
tried that, the Neko-ken would consume him well before
he got near the Reikoku, and he would surely die.
<Can't go around, can't go past... only one choice
left. I hope this works,> he thought. With that,
Saotome Ranma focused his concentration and sprinted
towards the Reikoku.
His feline instincts surged as he plunged into the
monster's battle aura, growing stronger with every
step he took. The pungent reek of fish bombarded his
nostrils, and he felt the hairs on his neck standing
up like needles in a pin-cushion. He couldn't get
much closer than this and hope to keep his sanity.
Mustering all the will he had left, he focused his
battle aura onto his hands as pockets of blistering
heat and freezing cold. He kicked off, leaping and
twisting into the air.
"SOARING ONE-MAN DRAGON!"
It was another extension of his One-Man Dragon arts,
once again very similar to the Hiryuu Shoten-Ha from
which the techniques originated. This time, though,
he made no effort to control the ki of his self-
generated whirlwind so it wouldn't affect him.
Instead, he let the winds take hold of his body and
hurl him through the sky.
When he'd first thought about applying his technique
in this fashion, he'd assumed it would be for some
high-energy soaring kick. It was a sound theory, but
this time his flight was completely out of control.
He barely had enough concentration to keep his mind
human, with nothing left over to assert his will over
his own body and the raging winds he'd unleashed.
Ranma hurtled through the sky, buffeted and pummeled
ruthlessly by the furious storm he'd created.
It was hardly an elegant flight, but it did take him
clear over the Reikoku.
The winds released their cruel grip on Ranma's body,
sending him tumbling to the earth. He slammed into
ice-covered stone at a fearsome velocity - the
collision drove every cubic millimeter of air out of
his lungs in a single agonizing gasp. The pig-tailed
martial artist bounced end over end, tumbling like a
football down the winding road until he finally
pounded head-first into something heavy and metallic.
Ranma flailed groggily against weather-beaten steel,
desperate to get his bearings and mentally clawing to
keep a hold of consciousness. He pulled his face out
of the bashed-in grill of the truck which had stopped
his fall. He flopped up halfway to his feet,
scrambling on the hood for support. A man's voice was
shouting something in Chinese.
Ranma didn't have the strength to even try to speak.
He staggered around to the passenger door, his legs
flopping like rags as his feet slid on the ice. With
a bloody hand he clutched desperately for the handle,
praying it wasn't locked, and hauled the door open.
The little old fellow in the driver's seat beat on
Ranma uselessly with his straw hat, shouting a string
of bitter curses in Chinese.
<Okay, Reikoku,> Ranma thought wearily. <Do your
stuff, already.>
He didn't have to wait long. The old man stopped mid-
sentence, his hat raised for another angry blow, and
stared out his grimy windshield. The Reikoku was
little more than a black speck approaching on the
road, but the creature's psychic aura was already
washing over them. Ranma heard himself growling.
The old man didn't know what was happening, but he
knew enough to be terrified. He jammed the stick
shift into reverse, backed up to make the turn, and
floored it. The battered old truck groaned in
indignant protest, but it clattered obediently down
the road, leaving the Reikoku behind.
The driver was throwing more questions at Ranma, but
at least he wasn't hitting him anymore. The young
martial artist didn't have the energy to explain
himself just yet - he simply curled up in his seat and
listened to his body aching.
<Too close... that was too damned close,> he thought
foggily. He really didn't like having to turn to a
complete stranger to bail him out, and he wasn't too
keen on going back the way he'd come, but right now he
was immensely grateful for the ill-tempered old farmer
and his rattletrap truck.
<I gotta get a handle on this cat thing,> he thought
as weariness overwhelmed him. <I'm a dead man if I
don't.>
- - - - - -
Ryouga fidgeted as he watched Ukyou dangle the earring
before her, waiting for its natural swinging to stop
so they could see which way it pointed. They stood at
a y-shaped fork in the road, with towering pines and
knotty bushes growing thick on either side of them.
Autumn winds hissed softly through the evergreens,
rustling the dry needles to make an anxious sort of
whisper. He cast a nervous look at the sky. "How
long does this take?"
"Just a second, okay?" The okonomiyaki chef peered at
the little teardrop shaped accessory as it settled
into place. "I think the pull's getting stronger.
We're getting closer."
"Which way, though?"
Her divining complete, Ukyou tossed the earring up and
snatched it in her palm. "That way," she pointed
towards the path which lay south-east of the fork in
the road.
Ryouga let out a small, relieved sigh. "Lucky break."
"What do you mean?"
The Lost Boy gave a furtive glance at the other path
they might have taken. "More clouds to the north. It
might rain on us if we go up that way." He smacked
his fist into his palm irately. "Damn it! Why didn't
I think to ask for an umbrella when we were in the
Amazon village? I need to pick a new one up when we
get somewhere with a market."
<Oh yeah,> Ukyou thought. <He STILL doesn't know
about his new curse. Well, I guess we'd better get
this out of the way now, while there's nobody else
around.>
Ryouga took a couple of steps down the path and turned
back to give her a questioning look. "Well? What are
we waiting for?"
"Hold up for just a minute there, sugar," Ukyou said,
trying to keep her voice as soothing as possible. "I
got something to talk to you about."
The bandanna-clad martial artist turned to face her as
she approached him, a confused look on his face.
"What's wrong?"
Ukyou paused for a moment, weighing the different ways
she might best phrase this. With a shrug, she decided
to go for the direct approach. "I think I'd better
just show you," she said. With that, she drew her
water flask and splashed her unsuspecting companion
square in the face.
The newly-transformed Ryouga-chan staggered back,
spluttering incredulously. "Bwee!" she cried angrily,
purely from reflex. "Bwee... bw... uh... huh? What
the...?"
Ukyou thought that Ryouga-chan's metamorphosis was a
little less severe than Ranma's. Though his hair
didn't change color, it did get substantially longer.
He didn't shrink nearly as much as Ranma did when he
changed - his girl form was only a few centimeters
shorter than his male body. It seemed that an
appealing figure came with the territory for this
particular curse, though. <Well, at least for Ranma
and Ryouga,> she thought. <Then again, they both have
pretty nice bodies as guys, too. I bet a fat guy who
fell in that spring would come out as an equally fat
girl.>
Ryouga-chan stood there, blinking in astonishment as
trickles of water made their way down her face and
neck.
"Um, you see," Ukyou explained, struggling to phrase
things as calmly as possible, "when we were at
Jusenkyou, you got splashed. Well, we all got
splashed, but Ranchan and me weren't affected, of
course... anyway, you were out cold at the time.
That's part of the reason the Amazons got all upset.
See, they thought you were a girl at first, but then
they found out... um..."
Her friend barely seemed to be registering anything
she was saying. Ryouga-chan kept staring blankly
around, eyes wide as saucers and jaw hanging loose.
"Hey," she said, a little more forcefully. "Are you
okay? Are you listening, here? You got splashed with
water from a different spring!"
"Splashed?" the Lost Girl squeaked.
"Yeah," Ukyou said, still trying to be reassuring.
"It ain't so bad, really..."
Ryouga-chan suddenly lurched toward her, a frenzied
look in her eyes. She gripped Ukyou by the shoulders -
she wasn't quite as strong as she was as a boy, but
there was still superhuman power in those hands.
"Hit me!" she cried, her fingers digging painfully
into Ukyou's shoulders.
"Hey... it'll be okay!" Ukyou tried to reassure her.
"HIT me! Hurry!"
<Geez... he's flipping out!> the young chef thought,
bewildered by this turn of events. <Ranchan said
he'd be pissed but...> Well, sometimes it helped to
smack a hysterical person, she thought. Ukyou reared
back and slapped Ryouga-chan firmly on the cheek.
"Not like THAT!" the fanged girl wailed, giving her
a bone-rattling shake. Ukyou felt her temper rising.
"Hit me for real!"
"Fine!" she agreed. Had to remember who she was
dealing with here - a little smack was nothing. This
time, she planted her feet, reared back, and laid a
haymaker right across Ryouga-chan's jaw.
The bandana-clad girl's head barely moved. "Harder!
she demanded.
<Buddy, you are asking for it,> Ukyou thought, her
pride stung. It was time to go all out. Her fists
suddenly moved in an impossible blur, striking over
and over again with a rapid-fire string of powerful
blows. As she unleashed her attack, she cried:
"DON'T-KNOCK-MY-SMOCK-OR-I'LL-CLEAN-YOUR-CLOCK!"
<Hmm... not good enough,> she thought vaguely. She
wasn't wearing a smock, after all. Though Ukyou didn't
like the idea of shouting about chestnuts when she
executed the Kachuu Tenshin Amaguriken, the impromptu
names that her mind had produced so far as substitutes
still left much to be desired.
Whatever she called it, the technique did the trick.
Under the hailstorm of blows, Ryouga-chan's body
hurtled away from her, sailing through the air until
she crashed into a pine tree. The trunk shuddered
and cracked, then the tree toppled directly onto
Ryouga-chan's head. A split formed along the length
of the trunk, which then fell into two uneven halves
on either side of the Lost Girl.
"I... felt that," the fanged girl said in wonder,
fingering the small lump forming on her scalp. "I
must be awake..."
<Man, what a monster!> Ukyou thought in wonder, but
she felt sorry for her friend's plight all the same.
She advanced tentatively. "It's not a nightmare,"
she said softly. "You just gotta... oh geez..."
Ryouga-chan turned away from her, head buried in her
hands, shoulders trembling. Strange little hitching
sounds came from her throat. "Huh... hu..."
"Ryouga!" Ukyou called, working her way through the
tangle of branches. "Please, you have to..."
"Huh...heh... heh... ha... ha ha... ha HA HA!" The
bandanna-clad martial artist threw her head back and
howled with laughter. "AH-HA-HA-HA-HA! AAAH! I'm
CURED!"
"What?" Ukyou asked, dumbfounded.
"FREEDOM!" Ryouga-chan cried, shaking her fists at the
sky in triumph. "At last, AT LAST I am free of the
pig! Goodbye, P-chan! Goodbye, humiliation!" She
belted out more peals of joyous laughter, hopping from
one foot to the other in a strange little victory
dance.
Ukyou reached out and touched Ryouga-chan's shoulder.
"You mean to say you're.... waaaah!" The young chef
found was startled to find herself hurled into the
air. Ryouga-chan grabbed her by the waist and
launched her skyward like a cheerleader, then caught
her and tossed her into the air again.
"I'm cured!" she cried between throws. "Cured!
Cured!"
"Put me down, you moron!" Ukyou shrieked, but she was
laughing as well. "Cut that out or I'm gonna puke!"
Ryouga-chan caught her from the last throw and set her
back onto the road. "Sorry, all you crazy cooks out
there," she giggled to herself, waving erratically at
the world in general. "No bacon for you! Ha ha ha
ha!"
"Man, I can't believe you're so happy about this,"
Ukyou said. "Ranchan thought you'd blow a fuse once
you found out."
"Heh," Ryouga-chan chuckled, wiping the tears from her
cheeks. "I've always said that Ranma doesn't know
what the hell he's talking about. He has no idea what
it means to be really cursed."
"But you're still cursed. You aren't REALLY cured,"
Ukyou pointed out.
"Maybe not," Ryouga-chan said, nodding. "But I'm
human."
"You aren't upset at all that you're a girl now?"
Ukyou asked.
The Lost Girl spread her hands. "Compared to being P-
chan? Give me a break. How bad can it be? I mean,
you obviously don't mind. You've been a girl all your
life, right?"
"Well, more or less," Ukyou muttered.
"It's not the perfect cure," Ryouga-chan admitted,
"But just think! Now that I'm a girl, nobody will
ever try to eat me again!"
Ukyou gagged and spluttered.
"What?" Ryouga-chan asked in confusion. "Did I say
something?"
"Nothing!" she wheezed, waving him off. "Never mind!
I'm... I'm really glad you're taking this so well."
Ryouga-chan fingered her longer hair, then inspected
her hands curiously. "I wonder what Akari-san will
think," she murmured. "Will she be upset?"
Ukyou scratched the back of her head nervously.
"Um... about that, Ryouga."
"Hmm?" Ryouga-chan was now inspecting her wrists and
forearms.
"Some of the things I said before about her," Ukyou
said, twiddling her fingers anxiously. "I don't know
if I really meant to... hey, what are you doing?"
Ryouga-chan had begun a more thorough inspection of
her new body. She poked her chest tentatively, eyes
growing wider by the moment. Ukyou looked on as
Ryouga-chan pulled back the collar of her shirt and
scrutinized her own torso with tremendous interest.
"Hey!" Ukyou cried indignantly. "Knock it off!"
Ryouga-chan withdrew her head from her collar, dazed
and grinning. "Heh," she managed to articulate,
raising one wobbly finger for emphasis. She then
toppled backwards like a plank, blood flowing from
her nose.
"You idiot," Ukyou grumbled to Ryouga-chan's
unconscious form. With a resigned sigh, she grabbed
her friend by the ankle and turned to trudge down the
south-east path, dragging Ryouga-chan behind her.
They had a lot more ground to cover today.
- - - - - -
One of the reasons that Nabiki had given up on being a
martial artist so long ago was her unwillingness to
devote so much of her life to training. She liked to
keep in shape, but she refused to go to the insane
extents to which the expert martial artists in her
life went to remain in fighting trim. She'd thought
Akane was bad enough, with her incessant practicing
and daily workouts. When Ranma had arrived, though,
she'd realized just how zealous a person could be.
Her little sister's fiancee couldn't perform the simple
act of walking from one place to another without
finding some fence to climb, height to scale, or
precarious platform upon which to balance.
Natsume and Kurumi, she realized, were just as bad.
The past few mornings she'd asked to walk with them to
school. This represented a deviation of pattern for
her adopted sisters - they tended to race one another
to school every morning, sprinting at top speeds and
seeking shortcuts over rooftops to try to shave off a
few seconds from their previous best times. Of
course, they had to slow down to accommodate for
Nabiki's traveling speed. To compensate for this,
they made up little practice games for each other as
they walked.
Today, for instance, they were making use of autumn's
abundance of fallen leaves. The game seemed to
involve Natsume sweeping a handful of leaves up in a
little dust-devil she created by twirling her
rugbeater, then keeping them aloft while Kurumi tried
to pick out the most brightly-colored leaf in the
bunch by snagging it around the stem with her ribbon.
Many people stared and muttered. The two fighters
didn't even notice. Nabiki sighed - that was par for
the course in a martial arts family.
Still, she had a few questions she really wanted to
ask these two, which was why she'd arranged to
accompany them in the first place. A little unwanted
public attention was the price she'd have to pay.
"So you're saying you never even met him?" Nabiki
asked.
Natsume nodded. "I wish I had. It would have made it
so much easier to search for our father if I had any
idea what he looks like. That photograph is the
closest we ever got, though."
Nabiki recalled the photo she was talking about - a
blurry image showing a portion of a man's back, with
the two young girls in the foreground. "Didn't that
turn out to be a picture of Happosai?"
"Yes, I guess so," Natsume admitted. She lashed out
with her rugbeater, swirling another smattering of
multi-hued leaves into the air. "I just got used to
thinking of it as father. So I guess we don't even
have any clue."
"Mmm," Nabiki hummed thoughtfully. "But Kurumi's a
few years younger than you. That means your father
had to come back to see your mom sometime when you
were very little, right?"
The tall girl shrugged. "If he did, I don't remember
it."
"Your mother never talked about him?" Nabiki prodded.
"Hardly ever. She died shortly after Kurumi was
born," Natsume explained. "I wasn't old enough to
remember much. There was only one thing I ever recall
hearing her say about our father."
"And that was?"
Natsume let her whirlwind dissipate as Kurumi plucked
a bright red leaf from the pack. The rest of the
leaves, all the colorful orphans of fall, scattered
away in the wind, wafting aimlessly through the air
towards their uncertain destinations. She propped her
rugbeater on her shoulder, closed her eyes, and took a
deep breath. "She said: 'His thoughtless words broke
my heart.'"
Nabiki furrowed her brow. "That was it?"
Natsume just nodded, then began to walk again.
"Hey," Kurumi piped up as they rounded the corner
towards the entrance of Furinkan High School. "Does
that sound like a big crowd to you?"
Nabiki cocked her head and listened, her heart
sinking. Sure enough, she caught the familiar babble
of her fellow students, assembled in force upon the
front lawn of the school. Inevitably, such impromptu
gatherings heralded the onset of some spectacle or
another. Since Ranma and Akane weren't here anymore,
it was a safe bet to assume that today's festivities
were somehow going to center around...
"Aloha, Miss Tendou Natsume!" came the staticy,
megaphone-amplified voice. "You wanna be steppin' up
here to talk to da headmaster, wahine!"
<Oh great,> Nabiki thought, burying her face in her
hand. Principal Kunou was not the kind to forget a
grudge, and he had yet to pay Natsume back for
freezing him in up to his neck in the Furinkan pool.
The headmaster was no mere martial artist, who might
simply challenge Natsume to a fight - his revenge
would no doubt be twisted, elaborate, and diabolical.
<What now?>
The headmaster of Furinkan High, resplendent in his
eye-shattering tropical ensemble, stood with a
megaphone in hand behind a hastily-erected podium.
He'd positioned himself beside the outdoor pool, which
was currently covered with a thick tarp. The students
and faculty milled about curiously, both nervous and
eager to see what scheme the Hawaiian Horror had
devised this time.
Natsume strode across the turf as a warrior,
unintimidated and unafraid. "What do you want with
me, headmaster?" she called out, her strong voice
cutting through the buzzing chatter of the throng.
"You don' wanna be takin' no disrespectful tone wit
me, child!" the principal scolded, strumming a few
notes from his ukulele for emphasis. "I know all
`bout you!"
Natsume idly twirled her rugbeater in her hand. "And
your point is?"
"Heh heh heh," the tanned taskmaster chuckled, wagging
a finger at her. "You been a bad li'l sista. You wen'
transfer to da Kahuna's school widdout fillin' out da
proppa forms!"
Natsume raised an eyebrow. "Forms."
"Dat's right!" the principal proclaimed. "If you
wanna transfer in as an upperclassman, you gotta fill
out da upperclassman form! Unless you wanna be goin'
back ta freshman year, wahine.
Incredulous muttering trickled through the crowd. A
paperwork snag was hardly worthy of one of their
headmaster's demented plots. The other shoe was bound
to drop in a moment.
Natsume rolled her eyes and shook her head slightly.
"Fine, fine. I have to sign another form. So where
do I get it?"
"Wa ha!" the Kunou patriarch exclaimed. "I am glad
you ask dat!"
With that, he leaned over gave a mighty tug on the
tarp covering the outdoor pool. The assembled crowd
craned their necks to get a good look at what was
revealed, and the murmurs intensified.
What was once a simple swimming pool had become a
giant-sized tropical tidepool. Exotic underwater
plants, enormous anemones, and colorful coral
decorated the walls and sand-coated bottom of the
pool. At the center of the deep end rested the most
prominent feature of this dazzling ensemble - a
tremendous clam, almost two meters across, with its
shell open wide. Resting in its cavernous maw was a
small packet of papers, protected by a waterproof
plastic bag.
"Now you want dem forms, li'l sista?" the Big Kahuna
asked. "You goan right down an' get `em!"
"A giant clam!" exclaimed a member of the Furinkan
High scuba team helpfully. "One of the great terrors
of the depths! Any poor diver who gets caught in its
grip is helpless to escape!"
"That fiend!" exclaimed another student. "Is there no
limit to the depths he'll sink?"
Natsume made her way to the edge of the pool, peering
over the edge thoughtfully. She sniffed the air
gently. "I have to get those forms?" she asked,
casting a sidelong glance at the principal.
"You got my drift," he affirmed. "Unless you wanna
join you li'l sista in da freshman classes."
"Be right back," she said with a grin, then dove into
the pool.
The crowd watched with great anticipation as Natsume
made her way towards the deep end. Nabiki turned to
Kurumi, who was fidgeting nervously. "I think your
sister's fast enough to snatch those papers before the
clam gets her," she reassured the small girl.
"Even underwater?" Kurumi wrung her hands anxiously.
"I hope so. She seems confident..."
"In spite of their great size, the giant clam can shut
its mouth with deceptive speed," the scuba member
announced, borrowing a microphone to address the
crowd. "Even fast-moving tropical fish fall victim to
its deadly trap. Can any human hope to survive an
encounter with such a menace?"
"I wish he'd shut up," Kurumi growled.
Natsume, for her part, didn't seem to be making much
effort to hurry at all. She kept to the bottom,
swimming in easy strokes towards the great shellfish,
until she finally paused before it, hovering in the
water and regarding it thoughtfully. A few bubbles
rose to the surface as the crowd held its breath.
The long-haired martial artist reached slowly,
deliberately into the maw of the mammoth mollusk. She
plucked the papers in their plastic bag from the lower
shell, made a bit of a show of examining the creature
for any other treasures, then turned and made her way
to the surface. The giant clam didn't even move a
centimeter.
Jubilant cheers erupted from the crowd as Natsume
emerged from the water, prize in hand. To the delight
of the onlookers, she closed her eyes and
concentrated, spinning her rugbeater around her head
with one hand. Whistling winds kicked up instantly,
swirling about her body and thrashing her ponytail
like a whip. When she emerged from the small tornado,
she was almost completely dry.
Natsume held her form aloft for the students to
behold. The relieved applause was tinged with
mutterings of confusion.
"Incredible! Just incredible! How did you do it?"
cried the scuba team member, advancing with the
microphone in the manner of a television interviewer.
"Was it some martial arts trick? Did you somehow
hypnotize the giant clam?"
"No," Natsume explained. "Nothing like that. That
clam isn't going to catch anybody. It's dead."
"What?!" Disbelief rippled through the crowd.
Natsume fished a pen from her bookbag and advanced on
the principal, smiling with triumph. "You made one
fatal error in constructing your trap, sir. The giant
clam is a saltwater mollusk."
Principal Kunou slapped his forehead with his hand.
"Wadda dumb Kahuna I am! I wen' forget to change da
watta in da pool!"
"Exactly," Natsume said, favoring the Furinkan
headmaster with a smug look as she scrawled her
signature along the bottom of the form. With a snap
of the wrist, she tossed the paper in his direction.
"Anything else?"
The principal scrabbled in the air for the form. He
let out a long, defeated sigh as he examined it,
shaking his head sadly. Then, a mischievous spread
slowly across his face, and he began to chuckle.
Natsume took a wary step back. "What?"
"Like a moth to da flame," he said, then laughed out
loud.
"What do you mean by that?"
"You wen' forgot ta read da fine print, wahine!" the
principal exclaimed, making a scolding motion with his
finger. "Watta big, fibbin' Kahuna I am! Dere ain't
no such-a thing as a upperclassman form!"
"Wait a second!" Natsume exclaimed, her cool composure
cracking. "Then what did I..."
Headmaster Kunou brandished the form before him
triumphantly. "Dis here be a nice agreement ta let da
Kahuna cut yo' hair! Snip, snip, li'l sista!"
Gasps of shock and dismay rose from the throng.
Natsume clutched her ponytail protectively and edged
backwards, her rugbeater held defensively before her.
Kurumi charged up to her side, hand poised on her
ribbon. The principal advanced with a shear in one
hand, the paper in the other.
"Now don't be goan away, keiki!" the headmaster
warned. "I gonna do a REAL good job wit' you!"
Natsume shook her weapon at him, casting about
frantically for an avenue of escape. "If you think
I'm just going to let you..."
"I got it all in writin', wahine!" the principal
crowed, rattling the document. "Ain't no way you be
gettin' outta dis..."
"Hold, I say thee! HOLD!"
With that, a blue-and-white blur streaked between
Natsume and the advancing menace. Something ripped
the form clear of the principal's hand. "Hootah!" he
shouted indignantly. "What you think you doin',
Tacchi?"
The young kendoist skidded to a halt with the paper in
his hand. "Demented father of mine," he pronounced.
"Dost thou not know that so long as I, Kunou Tatewaki,
the Dynamic Dashing Duelist of Furinkan High, attends
this school, that no tyrannical haircut rules shall be
allowed to stand? Observe my wrath!"
With that, Kunou cast the offending document aloft,
then drew forth his mighty bokken. In a frenzy of
precise and deadly strikes, he did cleave the onerous
paper once, twice, then hundreds of times, until
naught was left but a fine mist of confetti-sized
shreds wafting gently through the autumn air.
"All my plannin' goan to waste!" the headmaster fumed.
"Curse you, Tacchi! I'm gonna teach you a lesson!"
He advanced on his son, clicking his shears angrily.
"Do your worst, principal of evil!" cried the samurai.
And thus, the battle was joined.
Wood clattered against metal as father and son lunged
and parried on the Furinkan lawn. The student body
looked on in awe at this display of combat prowess.
Kurumi edged up to her elder sister. The tall,
stately martial artist looked rather dumbstruck.
"Hey," Kurumi whispered. "You okay?"
"Uh..." Natsume had to think about this one a while.
"Yeah."
"He came to your rescue," Kurumi observed.
"I noticed."
She grinned and elbowed her big sister. "Kind of
cool, isn't it?"
"Er..."
The battle raged on between the two mighty warriors of
the Kunou clan. The headmaster parried his son's
signature fast-strike assault with a spectacular
flurry of shear-work. He caught the kendoist's
incoming swing in a pincer-block with both his
weapons, then pressed his face close to his
adversary's, grinning maniacally.
"I know alla dem fancy kendo moves, Tacchi," he
announced. "You doan got nothin' I ain't seen
before!"
Kunou strained forward, teeth clenched. "I, too, have
studied your style, my evil father. Long have I
contemplated a strategy by which I might best you on
the field of battle! In my meditations upon past
clashes with the treacherous Saotome Ranma, a new
technique has revealed itself to me by which you shall
be defeated!"
"Oh yeah?" his father countered. "What you goan try'
now, keiki?"
"Just this!" Kunou trumpeted. "Boot-to-the-head!"
With that, the glorious Kunou Tatewaki did apply his
boot to the diabolical head of his malignant cur of a
father. Well did he apply it, with great force
mustered behind the mighty boot. And lo! The
hellspawed headmaster was indeed caught completely by
surprise, not suspecting to be faced with such a
subtle and wily strategy from his foe. His loathsome
body did hurtle through the sky, until his recently-
booted head truly collided with the stout walls of
that noble institution of learning, Furinkan High.
And so it was that his head did become buried in the
concrete, and lost unto him was his consciousness.
The mouths of hundreds of students dropped in shock.
"Well, that was certainly at twist," Nabiki muttered.
Natsume and Kurumi blinked about, failing to
comprehend the source of their classmates'
astonishment. "What? He just kicked him."
"This is Kunou-chan we're talking about," Nabiki
informed them. "He hasn't done anything but straight
kendo for as long as anybody can remember. I've never
seen him break the rules like that... hell, he
probably could've caught Ranma off-guard with that
one. Will wonders never cease?"
The general disbelief of the crowd faded, replaced by
a growing round of sincere applause. Though Kunou
Tatewaki was hardly as beloved a figure to the student
body as he believed himself to be, he was still better
liked than the principal. Anybody who thwarted the
designs of the head-shaving headmaster was bound to
enjoy a burst of popularity at Furinkan High. The
young kendo champion rested his wooden sword on his
shoulder and basked.
Kurumi nudged her sister insistently. "Hey! You
should thank him, dummy!"
"I will, I will," Natsume hissed back. "I'm just..."
The rugbeater-wielding martial artist was distracted
from completing her thought by the abrupt appearance
of a bouquet of red roses, sailing through the air in
her direction. She snagged them from their flight, a
surprised look on her face.
"Roses?" she said in a hushed voice. "For me?"
"Hey, he gave you flowers!" Kurumi observed brightly.
"Nobody's ever give you flowers before."
"For thee, fair Tendou Natsume," Kunou affirmed. "In
honor of the loveliness and fierce, warrior spirit
which I have seen in thee."
"They're nice," Natsume squeaked.
"You're blushing!" Kurumi exclaimed, bouncing up and
down. Natsume elbowed her in the head, but this
failed to dampen the small girl's enthusiasm.
"And so do I take this moment," the samurai orated,
"to declare before all my fans, admirers, and fellow
students, my intention... to date with thee!"
"Date...?" Natsume managed.
"He asked you out!" Kurumi bubbled. "Oh wow!
Nobody's ever asked you out before!"
"Just tell the world, why don't you?" Natsume snarled,
her cheeks flushed.
Amazed whisperings flickered through the assembled
students like flashes of lightning in a thunderhead.
It had been a while since anybody had seen Kunou make
a good impression on a girl, especially a martial
artist (and a Tendou, no less!). And here was the
normally composed and austere Natsume, blushing and
tongue-tied in the face of Kunou's bouquet-and-date
routine.
Nabiki was simply unable to leave well enough alone.
"Aren't you forgetting someone, Kunou-baby?"
"What say thee, Tendou Nabiki?"
She crossed her arms and gave him a sly look. "My
sister, perhaps? Not to mention the ever-popular pig-
tailed goddess."
The noble warrior touched his fingertips to his
forehead and closed his eyes. "Like spring was the
pig-tailed girl, vibrant with color and bursting with
life, the spirit of rebirth made tangible in a petite,
vigorous body. Like summer was Tendou Akane, with a
warm embrace and a fury like a thunderstorm, her
beauty and radiance stretching in endless bright days
before all who viewed her glory. Yet autumn is all
but gone, and whither these two lovely stars in the
firmament of our lives? Vanished, like the leaves
from the stark branches of trees, with only the memory
of their resplendent majesty left to comfort us in the
chill of the lengthening night. As do the seasons
pass on, so does the heart of a man."
Natsume's left eye twitched slightly.
"But now," the samurai trumpeted, "the dawn of winter
is upon us, enfolding the world in a blanket of
pristine glory! And like winter is Tendou Natsume,
pure in heart as the newfallen snow, fierce in battle
as the pounding hail, beautiful in body as a horizon
of white mountains! So do I, Kunou Tatewaki, declare
my love for thee! Allow me to share with thee a token
of my devotion!"
With that, the lovestruck samurai drew forth a
parchment from the folds of his robe, and from it he
read in a proud voice:
"An Ode to Love!
Bereft of my loves, my heart `twas so gloomy
But then did thou come, my fairest Natsume!
Alone in the dark, thy luminance drew me
Like a bug to a bug lamp, oh radiant Natsume!
Mine passions were bottled, but thou did unscrew me
And let them flow forth, sweet maiden Natsume!
Now the buds of my heart are roses in bloom-y,
Oh gardener of romance, thy name be..."
So immersed was Kunou in the throes of his own poetic
rapture that he failed to notice that his object of
affection was now thrashing on the ground in the grips
of convulsive seizures. Nor did he manage to register
the approach of Kurumi, desperate to protect her
sister from the onslaught of Kunou's verse, armed with
the headmaster's podium. The diminutive girl wielded
the podium like a hammer, pounding the kendoist into
the ground like a tent peg until his mouth was buried
below the dirt.
The small girl cast her battered weapon aside, heaving
with exertion. The crowd was engaged in a round of
robust chatter about the spectacle they'd just
witnessed, especially Natsume's unexpected paroxysms.
"What happened to her?" someone asked. "Is she all
right?'
Kurumi knelt beside her spasming sister protectively.
"Oh, she's fine!" she chirped. "Really, it's nothing,
to be worried about, ha ha!"
"It looked like an epileptic fit or something," a
freshman girl speculated.
"Did it have something to do with that poem?" another
boy wondered.
"No!" Kurumi insisted. "It's... uh... she's allergic
to shellfish! That's the problem." She made a show
of scolding her sister. "Now, now, what got into you?
You shouldn't have gone anywhere near that giant clam,
you silly thing."
"Ergh..." Natsume grunted, trying to unclench the
muscles in her jaw.
"What, did she take a bite of it while she was down
there?" the scuba team member asked.
"Oh no!" Kurumi said, waving her hand in a vain
attempt to seem casual. "No, it was probably just the
dander!"
The students regarded each other with dubious looks as
they absorbed this explanation. "Clam dander?"
"I've never heard of a shedding clam."
"Ha ha ha!" Kurumi laughed in a very strained voice.
"Well, it's almost time for class, wouldn't you say?
Come on, sis... we'd better get moving!" She hauled
Natsume up to her feet and practically dragged her
towards the door.
"Good one," Natsume managed to grunt through clenched
teeth.
"You need to work on your improvisations," Nabiki
observed, moving in to help Kurumi haul her sister up
the stairs.
"Sorry," Kurumi whispered. "I just didn't want them
to know her weakness!"
"Oh well," Nabiki said, shrugging. "No harm done, I
suppose. An interesting morning overall, wouldn't you
say, Natsume?"
"That's one way to put it," the tall girl replied.
She was beginning to get motor control back in her
legs.
"Try not to dwell on it," Nabiki soothed. "Just think
of something else. Like... well, have you ever
considered trying some modeling? You have such a
striking figure, you know. I'm something of a
photographer, you see, and I was wondering if you'd be
interested in posing for a few snapshots..."
- - - - - -
Now that it was just the two of them on the road
together, Ukyou and Ryouga had to divide their daily
labors a bit differently than before. In spite of
Ryouga's experience at foraging, his dismal sense of
direction made it too risky to send him out looking
for food and supplies. As a consequence, the Lost Boy
stayed back at camp to set things up while Ukyou did
the hunting and scavenging. She found it to be a
rather refreshing change of pace.
It hadn't taken her anywhere near as long this evening
to find game as it had the past couple of nights.
This was another benefit of the rigorous training
she'd endured - her senses were far sharper than
before, and now she was good enough to bisect a
horsefly at fifty paces with a throwing spatula. The
hare she'd snagged for dinner hadn't even known she
was there.
Ryouga was just about finished with the preparations
when she returned to camp with the spoils of her hunt.
The bandanna-clad martial artist had set up the tents
and finished gathering the wood for the fire.
"Hey, sugar," she called. "I got dinner right here.
You ready to light that up?"
Ryouga gave a curt nod. He was kneeling before the
fire pit, concentrating intensely. Ukyou was
surprised to see his battle aura simmering to life
around him. With a powerful cry, he thrust his hand
into the kindling, and his aura flared bright and hot.
When Ranma had practiced this technique, the results
had been like dropping a torch onto the dry wood.
With Ryouga, it was more like a small grenade. Twigs
and chunks of burning timber exploded in every
direction, spiraling out of a plume of dust and smoke.
Ukyou yelped in shock and dove for cover.
The dust settled fairly quickly. Ryouga plopped back
on his rump, looking somewhat dazed.
"You moron!" she upbraided him as she stamped out a
few stray embers. The concussive force of the
explosion had pretty much blown any fire out which
might have ignited, but it was best to take no
chances. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Whu... dizzy..." Ryouga managed, blinking.
"Of course you're dizzy, you dolt," she chided. With
a sigh, she began to gather some more sticks for the
fire. "You're still recovering from your injuries.
You should know better than to try a stunt like that
right now."
Ryouga seemed to have recovered his equilibrium pretty
handily, and was glowering at the fire pit. "I can't
afford to be injured forever. I have to start
training again." He gave her a sharp look. "You
can't afford to neglect your training either, you
know."
Ukyou got out her matches to start the fire in a more
conventional fashion. "Yeah, I know. I've been
working on it. You know, meditating and all to try to
get my balance, so I can do my ki-spatula without
having to sit there like a lump for five minutes
first. It's hard!"
Ryouga scratched his head thoughtfully. "You
shouldn't focus on it by itself, I think. You should
try to work it in while you're doing other exercises,
so it comes naturally when you need it."
Ukyou pursed her lips, considering this. "That's an
interesting thought. Still, I was hoping maybe I
wouldn't even have to use that technique if I fight
the Reikoku again."
"What do you mean?"
She shrugged. "Well, if I can get by without it, then
that's the best idea, right? I mean, the more you can
hold in reserve, the more surprises you'll have left
for it if you have to fight it again..."
The young chef was surprised by the intensity of
Ryouga's response. He took her by the shoulders,
shaking his head vigorously in denial of what she'd
just said. "Ukyou-san! You can't think like that!"
"Wha... what?"
"That monster," he began, searching for the right
words. "That thing... it's too dangerous for that
sort of thinking!"
"But it only makes sense," Ukyou protested. "What's
wrong with a strategy like..."
"You can't afford to think so hard about it! It's not
a chess game!" Ryouga insisted loudly. "When you
fight the Reikoku, you have to give it everything
you've got. No holding back! Only by fighting with
all your heart and soul, absolutely giving it your
all, can you hope to win. Nothing less will do!
Anything else means death! Don't you see?"
"Ryouga..."
He released his grip on her, settling back to his seat
and looking a bit embarrassed by his outburst. "I'm
sorry. But that's just how I feel about it. If
you're thinking about holding back, you aren't
fighting your best fight."
Ukyou spread her hands helplessly. "But if you do
that, then you have to come up with a whole new set of
skills before you fight it again!"
The Lost Boy nodded gravely. "Yes. That's true.
That's why this thing is so terrible. But that's just
how it is."
The two of them sat in silence for a while, watching
the dying glow of sunset fade from the sky as the
flames of their little fire grew gradually stronger.
Ukyou began to prepare the rabbit for dinner, setting
their little stew-pot on the fire and getting her
ingredients together. By the time Ukyou felt like
speaking again, the first stars of the evening had
already begun to wink to life in the sky.
"So what were you trying to do?" she asked.
"Hmm? When?"
"Just now," she clarified. "With the fire. We never
did find out what Ranma was going for with that hot-
cold stuff. You already know you can do the hot aura,
and you don't know how to do the cold... so what's the
deal with the fire-lighting thing?"
"Oh," he said. "Better control."
"Yeah?"
"It was something you suggested before," he went on.
"After I used the bakusai-tenketsu in the last fight,
when my aura was so hot. Ranma called it a `meteor
swarm.'" He considered that for a moment. "That's
catchy, actually."
Ukyou tilted her head with curiosity. "But you used
that technique already. The Reikoku's already
adapted, right?"
"Yeah," he agreed. "But that doesn't mean I can't
think of some different way to try it. Once I get a
little better control, that is. It's worth working
on."
"Have you thought of anything else you want to try
out?"
He plucked at some stray threads on his sleeve
absently. "Have to keep practicing on a new style.
Ranma was teaching me some of the kung-fu stances and
attacks he knows, so I can change my basic approach.
Beyond that..." He finished with a shrug.
Ukyou set the lid on the stew-pot and rose to her
feet, patting the dust off her legs. "Well, sugar, I
have something in mind."
He rose beside her. "Oh? What's that?"
The okonomiyaki chef wore a pained but determined
expression on her face. She'd been thinking about
this for the last couple of days, but she hadn't quite
gathered up the nerve to go ahead with it. She knew
that the longer she waited, the worse off they'd be -
time was always of the essence when the Reikoku was
involved. Mustering her courage, she reached back and
unlimbered her battle spatula. With an air of solemn
ceremony, she held it out towards Ryouga in both
hands. "Here," she said in a grave voice. "I want
you to have this."
Ryouga blinked a few times at the weapon. "Your
spatula?"
"Take it," she insisted, raising it slightly higher.
He reached and lifted it from her grasp. The feel of
the weapon's weight leaving her hands brought a lump
to her throat, but she kept a grip on her composure.
"But... why?" he asked.
"Isn't it obvious?" she said, trying to sound casual.
"I can't use this against the Reikoku again. But you
can. You may have lost your umbrella, but that
doesn't mean you can't use another weapon, right?"
He hefted the flat-bladed weapon in his grasp, giving
her a concerned look. "Are you sure this is okay?"
"Here, you're holding it wrong," she said, reaching
for his hands to adjust his grip. "There, like that.
This thing catches a lot of air when you swing it, you
know. You have to learn to pivot it like a sail to
use that air resistance to your advantage. Otherwise,
you can't put your full power behind your swing."
"I see," Ryouga said.
Ukyou dropped her gaze, her practical demeanor
slipping. "This spatula... it's a family treasure.
I've been using it ever since I was strong enough to
pick it up. I wouldn't be giving to you if I didn't
trust you to take care of it, okay?"
"I understand," Ryouga said seriously. "I won't let
you down, Ukyou-san."
The long-haired girl noticed that her hand was still
folded around Ryouga's over the grip of the great
spatula. With a little embarrassed cough, she jerked
back and stepped away, planting her hands on her hips.
"Well then," she said briskly. "I guess I'll have to
teach you how to swing this thing, sugar. There are
some basic forms to start with to get the hang of
using the weapon..."
"Ugh," Ryouga grunted. "I'm lousy at forms."
"Oh," Ukyou faltered. "Well then... er... I guess I
can just..."
"Which means you should probably teach them to me,"
the Lost Boy interrupted. "Learning to do forms right
will make me have to work for it. I'll have to grow
out of my old ways and learn new ways. So that's what
I should be doing, isn't it?"
She favored him with a lopsided grin. "Well, if
you're sure of yourself..."
"Heh. Believe me, Ukyou-san," he said. "There's only
one thing that I can really do well in this whole
world, and that's fighting."
She put a finger to her lips, considering. "Oh, I
don't know if that's really true."
"Huh?"
Ukyou waved her hand dismissively. "Never mind that,
sweetheart. We've got a little time before that
rabbit is ready to eat. Are you ready to start
learning how to fight with that thing?"
He nodded once, smiling enough to reveal a hint of
fang. "Let's go, Ukyou-san!"
- - - - - -
Washing silk was a painstaking operation, and Shampoo
had begun to suspect that certain people were making a
point of getting their clothing especially dirty these
days. She smoothed the bright red tunic out on the
flat stone, checking it carefully for stains and rips
in the fabric. She detested needlework - it was
better to spend the extra time cleaning carefully
rather than having to mend garments afterward.
Satisfied that she'd finally gotten the stains out of
this one, she smoothed it with both palms, pressing
hard to flatten the water out. It did not do to wring
silk. Rivulets of moisture ran down the well-worn
surface of the stone, back into the rushing river. It
was time to hang this one to dry, then move on to the
next item in her heaping basket of laundry.
<Berry juice stains,> she thought as she looked at the
pile. <On white pants, no less. Who is so stupid and
clumsy?>
It was probably just someone else being deliberately
mean. Shampoo was learning a great deal about the
nature of spite now that she was shamed, and the
lessons were bitter. Most of the people in her tribe
treated her fairly enough, it was true, or at the very
least with cold indifference. But she was surprised
by the number of her sisters who were openly delighted
at her fall from grace, and who were not wasting any
opportunity to take advantage of her vulnerable
position.
<How did I make them hate me so much?> she wondered.
<Was it my failure to marry Ranma? Did I bring that
much shame to the tribe?>
That probably wasn't it, she decided. There was a
distinct pattern for which of her sisters bore her the
most resentment. For instance, Fo Lesu had been
practicing herbalism two years longer than Shampoo,
but she hadn't ever mastered any of the higher
techniques, like the Xi Fa Xiang Go memory-altering
art. Shampoo had gotten the hang of that one in a
couple of weeks. A few days ago, Fo Lesu had insisted
that Shampoo clean her family home, and it had taken
her many long, excruciating hours to remove of the
particles of grime which had been wedged between the
floorboards. It was probably not a coincidence.
Then there was Laidu Lu, who'd been the champion of
Martial Arts Takeout until Shampoo had defeated the
veteran in the first contest she'd entered. Her
former rival seemed all too happy to experiment with
new, corrosive dishwashing soaps when she had the use
of Shampoo's services. Ma Saigu, who had once been
the top student of acupressure in the village, was now
fond of testing out new pressure point techniques on
the girl who'd so easily eclipsed her a few years ago.
All these old rivals had come out of the woodwork,
finding ways both subtle and coarse to make Shampoo's
life miserable now that she was spending the year as a
slave.
The intensity of their resentment surprised her, but
at least they did not cross the line from being mean-
spirited to being outright abusive. There was only
one girl who seemed to be working up her courage to go
farther than just giving Shampoo exceptionally
difficult chores to do. It was pig-faced, bullying
thug she'd defeated in the last martial arts
tournament, in which Shampoo would have been champion
if Ranma hadn't butted in - that girl had a sadistic
streak in her. Four years Shampoo's senior, she'd
been fond of swaggering around the village with her
sniveling toadies in tow, lording over smaller and
weaker girls with her unusual size and strength...
until Shampoo had reached her thirteenth birthday and
knocked the big bully on her butt in front of
everybody. The older Amazon had spent the next three
years trying to reclaim her title as toughest girl in
the tribe, and had failed miserably in every clash.
Shampoo hadn't expected some of the others to resent
her so much, but she'd known perfectly well that old
Dushu Baigu would want to take a piece out of her
hide.
<I wonder how long it'll take her to come out of the
underbrush?> Shampoo wondered. <She's been watching
me for the last half an hour. Is she trying to work
up the nerve to attack me, when she knows I'm not
allowed to raise a hand to defend myself?>
A few moments later, she realized that wasn't the
case. She caught the sound of two more clumsy girls
trampling their way through the forest, each about a
stealthy as an avalanche. <Ah, her little followers,>
Shampoo thought. <That stupid Dushu Baigu. She wants
to make sure she has an audience when she humiliates
me. It figures.>
She was tired of listening to them whisper to each
other in the bushes. It was time to get this over
with, whatever was going to happen. She might be
forbidden to fight right now, but that didn't mean she
had to pretend to be afraid. "//Are you coming
out?//" she called. "//Or do you plan to skulk like
weasels in the bushes all day?//"
She heard Dushu hiss a reprimand at her two followers
for letting themselves get noticed, but then the big
girl emerged from the underbrush. Shampoo rose to her
feet calmly and turned to face her enemy.
"//I was just enjoying the view,//" the beady-eyed
girl croaked. "//To see the great Shampoo reduced to
doing laundry... I could just watch that all day.//"
"//It must be fascinating for you to watch someone
working hard,//" Shampoo observed, "//since you're too
stuck-up to for that sort of thing, Dushu.//"
"//Watch your mouth!//" the older girl snarled.
"//You're shamed, remember? You can't talk to me that
way.//"
"//Whatever you say,//" Shampoo said lazily. "//I've
got work to do here, you know.//"
Dushu Baigu crossed her arms and glared smugly at her
rival. "//Show me some respect, shamed one. Bow
before me.//"
<What a loser,> Shampoo thought. If this was all
Dushu wanted, it wouldn't be such a trial. Shampoo
was resigned to her fate - she had to show deference
to everybody, no matter what their standing in the
tribe. She'd done more bowing since she got back than
she had in her entire life. "//As you wish.//"
When she was completely doubled over, Shampoo felt the
splash of ice-cold water on her back. She screeched
in indignant surprise as her body changed, shrinking
and reconfiguring into the form of a wet cat.
Dushu Baigu and her cronies howled with mirth and
pointed at her. "//There, you see?//" Dushu crowed,
pointing. "//I told you she was trying to cheat on
her punishment!//"
Shampoo puffed her tail and hissed at her adversaries.
When she was a cat, it was a lot harder to remember
that she was supposed to be submissive and
deferential. She flexed her claws and backed slowly
away from Dushu Baigu and her cackling lackeys.
"//The shamed one is supposed to be shaved bald,//"
Dushu Baigu sneered as she advanced on Shampoo,
backing the little cat back up to the river. "//But
look at all that hair on you, girl! It's my sworn
duty as an Amazon warrior to see you properly
punished.//"
The big, ugly girl reached behind her back and
withdrew a gleaming dagger. Shampoo eyed it warily,
her ears pinned back against her head. The three
girls had formed a semicircle around her. With the
river behind her, she had nowhere to run.
"//Time to shave the kitty,//" Dushu Baigu hummed, her
eyes gleaming. Shampoo hissed again and raised her
paw in warning. "//Oooh, look at the tough little
kitty-cat. Come on, kitty. Scratch me.//"
"Hey!" came a voice from behind the three girls.
"Leave her alone!'
The three Amazons whirled towards the speaker.
Shampoo recognized the voice immediately - she glared
irritably in the direction of the Japanese speaker.
She might have preferred to have been shaved bald,
rather than be rescued from her fate by Tendou Akane.
Akane stomped her way down the road towards the
clearing where Shampoo had been doing her laundry,
hands curled into angry fists. Her green-and-blue
traveling gear was dusty from many hours on the road,
but her eyes were vibrant and bright. She stalked
towards the three Amazon girls without a hint of fear
in her visage.
"What you want, outsider?" Dushu Baigu barked in
thickly-accented Japanese. "This not your
business."
"Oh, yes it is," Akane insisted. Shampoo could see
the tenseness in the Tendou girl's limbs - she was
ready to fight. "If you think I'm going to sit here
and let you kill Shampoo, you're dumber than you
look!"
Dushu Baigu gave Akane a surprised look. Shampoo
sighed - Akane had seen them advancing on her with a
knife. Of course she'd jumped to the wrong
conclusion.
"You know Shampoo?" Dushu blurted in confusion. "Who
are you?"
"Tendou Akane, of the Anything-Goes School of martial
arts," the short-haired fighter announced proudly.
"I'm not the sort to stand by and let somebody stab
one of my friends."
<Friend?> Shampoo thought. <Since when?>
Dushu recovered her poise and sneered at the smaller
girl. "I not sort to let ugly loudmouth foreigner
give me order."
"Who are YOU calling ugly?" Akane barked
incredulously.
"Stupid girl," Dushu spat. "You get in way of Dushu
Baigu's fun. You obstacle. Obstacles is..."
"Yeah, yeah," Akane cut in. "I've heard that one
before. Let's just get on with it, okay?" She
dropped into a fighting stance.
Dushu glowered at her smaller foe, but she didn't seem
to be able to think of anything else to say. Instead,
she handed the knife to one of her followers. The
large girl curled her right hand into a hammer-like
fist, then smacked it hard into her left palm. The
snap of the meaty impact cracked through the little
glade.
"Oh, a big noise," Akane observed sardonically. "Is
that how you want to start? How about this one,
then?"
In a sudden flash of movement, the Tendou girl stabbed
her finger into the surface of a large boulder next to
the river. With a report like cannon fire, the rock
burst into thousands of tiny fragments, blown to bits
by Akane's baksuai ten-ketsu technique. The Japanese
fighter watched in satisfaction as the Amazon girls'
eyes bulged wide in shock.
"Still want to go through with this?" she asked Dushu
Baigu, her voice harder than the stone she'd just
annihilated.
"How... how you..." Dushu stammered.
A new voice cut through the air, ancient and
commanding. "I think that will be enough of this
nonsense for today."
"Elder Cologne!" Dushu Baigu cried. "This girl...
she..."
The withered matriarch hopped towards the scene on her
gnarled staff. Her gaze fell upon the knife that
Dushu had planned to use on Shampoo. "Now what might
you have in mind for that, child?" she asked.
Dushu fidgeted anxiously under the elder's scrutiny.
"Was not going to hurt Shampoo," she insisted. "Only
make her bald in other body, too."
"Is that so?" Cologne queried. "And what makes you
think you have the right to do such a thing, hmm?"
"Right?" Dushu responded. She set her jaw defiantly.
"Amazon warrior have right to do whatever they want to
shamed one!"
"Perhaps that's so," the old woman acknowledged. "But
did you think you would not be judged by how you treat
one who is at your mercy, Dushu Baigu? One who calls
herself a warrior should know better than that."
The muscular girl spluttered incoherently.
Cologne withdrew a flask of warm water from her sleeve
and hopped over next to Shampoo. The Amazon girl
quickly donned her clothes again after she transformed
back into a human. The matriarch pivoted to face
Dushu and her quivering followers.
"It seems there's some laundry here to be done,"
Cologne observed. "I have need of Shampoo at the
moment. You three wouldn't mind finishing up here for
her, would you?"
"Y... yes, Elder," Dushu said, her shoulders slumping
with resignation. She glared balefully at Shampoo,
her eyes promising a host of future torments.
"Come, both of you," the old woman commanded,
addressing Akane and Shampoo. "Time is short, and
there is much I would discuss."
When they were out of earshot of Dushu and her
followers, Shampoo raised a question. "Why you not
punish Dushu Baigu worse? She is bully. Everybody
know this."
"Even one such as her has a role to play," Cologne
replied. "So long as her malice does not get out of
hand, it's better to let those who would be her
victims learn to stand up to her themselves. However,
Tendou Akane," she said, turning to the Japanese girl,
"I would have hoped you might show more sense than to
pick a fight with a woman of our tribe."
"I wanted to scare her off," Akane explained.
"Besides, I couldn't just let her kill Shampoo."
"She not want to kill me," Shampoo said in a surly
tone. "And Shampoo can take care of self."
"Well excuse ME for trying to help you!" Akane shot
back. "Maybe next time I'll just let you..."
"Enough!" Cologne snapped. "You must learn to stop
bickering with one another if you are to travel
together."
"What?" the two teenagers cried in unison.
"You heard me," the old woman continued. "Tendou
Akane, you will need to make haste to find Ranma. A
guide is what you need. Who better than Shampoo to
help you find your way through China?"
"Uh..." Akane scratched her head. "Mousse?"
Cologne responded to this with an eloquent snort.
"Okay, maybe not," Akane relented.
"And as for you, great-granddaughter," the old woman
continued, "I think that it may be best for you to
spend some time outside the village. Things haven't
been going too well for you around here, have they?"
"Shampoo... get to see Ranma again?"
Akane stiffened and pursed her lips.
"Indeed," the venerable warrior agreed. "I have been
contemplating Ranma's plight, and my conversation with
you, Akane. There may yet be a way to guide him clear
of the dark path he now treads. A slim chance, to be
sure, but better than none. I foresee that he will
need both of you to help him find his way."
"What do you mean?" Akane asked, her voice tight.
"Follow me," Cologne instructed. "I will explain it
all tonight."
- - - - - -
The first hints of sunrise were finally creeping
across the Chinese sky, and Ranma was already finished
with his meager breakfast. The little farming village
in which he'd managed to find an open loft for shelter
was beginning to stir, its inhabitants shuffling about
in the chilly air to attend their morning chores.
He'd managed to cover some ground with his hitchhiking
efforts, but he couldn't rely on catching another lift
today. Unless he got lucky again, he had to prepare
for another grueling day of travel by foot.
<Man, this is a lot worse than travelin' with pop all
those years,> he mused ruefully. <I can't remember
the last time I got to sleep in late.>
In theory, it was possible to stay ahead of the
Reikoku indefinitely. Ranma had begun this journey
quite optimistic about his ability to keep a few steps
ahead of the monster at every turn. After all, it
wasn't like the thing was very fast, except when it
was actually engaged in combat. Its shambling gait
kept it moving at the speed of a brisk walk. Ranma
knew he could run for hours without getting tired,
maintaining a pace three or four times faster than the
Reikoku's without seriously exerting himself. It had
seemed like it would be so easy to keep from getting
caught.
Now, months later, he understood the insidious nature
of the demon that hounded him. Old Cologne had said
its purpose was to punish its victims, and Ranma had
begun to understand that punishment was not merely
death. This was no way to live, constantly looking
over your shoulder, waking up in a sweat every time
you heard a bird take flight, never daring to stop and
relax for an instant.
<I guess I was too eager to fight it the other day,>
he admitted to himself. <I hate all this running
away. I want to get this over with, damn it all.>
If he fought with it again, though, it WOULD be all
over with. He was frustrated with this game, but he
was hardly ready to rush into the arms of death to end
his plight.
More training was what he needed. He had to get over
his fear of cats once and for all, or he'd never
survive another fight with the Reikoku.
He wondered if he'd lose access to the Neko-ken if he
succeeded in conquering his phobia. Maybe there'd
still be some way to invoke the technique without
flipping out - after all, the Neko-ken was beginning
to manifest on its own now, when he wasn't even
thinking about cats. But even if he did have to
forfeit the power he gained through the Neko-ken, it
was probably for the best. Having a technique he
couldn't control was generally more trouble than it
was worth.
In any case, it was time to apply some new theories to
the problem. As luck would have it, Ranma saw a small
girl tottering around in front of her home with a tiny
grey kitten clutched in her chubby arms. He felt his
teeth beginning to chatter.
<Okay, this is your chance,> he told himself. <You
can do this. Think about maintainin' your Soul of
Ice, and just walk right up there. Give that little
monstrosity a nice, friendly pat on the head. Nothin'
to it.>
The pig-tailed fighter advanced on stiff legs, his
awkward gait very similar to that of a wind-up doll.
"I... love... cats..." he told himself through
tightly-clenched teeth.
The little girl pointed and laughed at the funny man.
Her kitten yawned lazily, then proceeded to bat a
loose string on her shirt. Ranma could see the
beast's array of hideous pale claws extending from its
paw as it tapped at the thread, flexing in and out in
their sickly sheathes, arched sickles of pain like the
scythes of a reaper...
<Soul of Ice!> he told himself. <Think Soul of Ice,
dammit!> After all, the Soul of Ice technique was
meant to allow its practitioner to keep his cool no
matter what circumstances he faced. It was based on
controlling emotions. He could use it to control his
fear.
It seemed like such a good idea, anyway.
Ranma's smile had degenerated into something rather
like a death rictus as he closed within petting
distance. With mechanical jerkiness, elbows and knees
locked, he covered the last few steps. "N...nice...
k...k...kitty..." he stammered.
The little girl didn't understand his Japanese, but
somehow she got the drift anyway. She let out a
gleeful little giggle and held her lazy kitten out in
front of her, offering it to Ranma for attention. The
kitten focused its yellow eyes on Ranma's quivering
pig-tail with curious intent, and reached out for him
with its paws.
The need to flee surged like a tidal wave in Ranma's
mind. He desperately focused all his will upon the
Soul of Ice technique, struggling to control the
hammering of his heart. His battle aura turned a
shocking blue, and he heard a distinct crackling
noise. The air swirled around him, frosty crystals
coalescing from the vapor onto his skin. In the face
of the small grey kitten, Saotome Ranma, the Master of
the Anything-Goes School of martial arts, froze
himself solid.
The little girl squealed with delight and toddled off
to tell her mommy about the silly man who turned
himself into a popsicle.
Encased snugly in his block of ice, Ranma watched her
leave. It seemed, he realized, that even the Soul of
Ice had its limitations. At least he'd tested it on a
cat rather than against the Reikoku - it would have
been an embarrassing way to die, trapped in a prison
of his own making. With a frustrated sigh, he began
focusing his hot aura to melt his way free from his
frosty bonds. <This is gonna take a lot of work,> he
thought bitterly as he slowly began to thaw.
- - - - - -
The last vestiges of sunlight evaporated into the
blackness of night, just a bit earlier than they had
the day before. As winter extended its skeletal
grasp, the dominion of the sun grew stronger and
weaker with each passing hour. The blanket of clouds
blocked out what scant light from the stars and sliver
of a moon that might have illuminated the evening,
plunging the small Chinese town into a state of almost
absolute darkness.
There was something wrong with this night. The
animals fidgeted in their stalls, shuffling anxiously
in the dry call and whimpering. The fluttering of a
bat's wing set a high-strung cat into a panic. Dogs
barked and whimpered at the noise. And the animals
were not the only ones who felt the wrongness of this
too-dark night.
Men rubbed their hands together and peered into the
darkness, trying to pierce the veil of ebony with the
pale, flickering light of their lanterns. Women
barred their windows tight, speaking only in hushed
whispers to quiet their children. The old crones
mumbled and worked their toothless jaws, sensing the
strange menace in their bones. There was a presence
here tonight. There was something in this place which
did not belong. An evil had come to this small town,
and it would not be long before it revealed itself.
The two watchers on the hilltop overlooking the town
sensed it as well, but they waited for a sign. Unlike
the hapless villagers who jumped at every shadow, they
knew what fiend had invaded this place. It would not
be long before the screams filled the night.
"//EEK!//" came the shriek of a surprised Chinese
woman. "//Panty thief!//"
"Hot-cha!" the withered voice erupted. "What a haul,
what a haul!"
Ukyou turned to Ryouga, barely able to make out more
than his silhouette on the dark hilltop upon which
they had been observing the town. "Well, that's him
all right. The earring worked."
She heard a series of sharp, muffled snaps as the Lost
Boy cracked his knuckles. "Happosai, you little
demon. I've been waiting for this," he said in a low,
angry voice. "I'm going to make that troll pay!"
The okonomiyaki chef took a hold of his shirt to keep
him from charging forward. "Hold on! Just a second."
"It's him!" Ryouga protested. "We can't let him get
away!"
"Hold your horses, sugar," she told him. "We both
know how slippery he is, right? We have the element
of surprise right now. I say we make good use of it."
Ryouga peered through the gloom at her. "What are you
suggesting?"
She grinned and leaned close to him, her voice
dropping to a whisper. "Listen up. I have a plan."
- - - - - -
end of part thirteen...
-----------------------------------------------------------
AUTHOR'S NOTES
-----------------------------------------------------------
Many thanks to Gary Kleppe for his help with da Kahuna's
dialogue for this chapter.
COMING SOON: Ranma continues to struggle against his fear
of cats, while Akane has her own feline troubles to contend
with. Are Ukyou and Ryouga ready for a showdown with
Happosai? Will he tell them what they need to know, or will
he prove too treacherous for them? All this and more in
the next chapter...
REVISION NOTES: The biggest change is a rewrite of the scene
where Ryouga finds out about his new curse. The previous version
of this was almost a direct rip from a scene in the manga - I
intended it as a placeholder, but never got around to fixing it
to something more original. Better late than never...
COPYRIGHT STUFF: All the Ranma characters belong to Takahashi
Rumiko,and are licensed in America by Viz Communications.
GRT - September 2000
MODIFIED - April 2005
thunderstruck_comic@comcast.net
All existing chapters of this story may be found at:
http://www.talesfromthevault.com/relentless
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